


Something Crazy

by backiejonomo



Series: moritz, ilse, and the roommate AU [1]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, I overuse italics sorry, sort of apart of a future multi chap au I have planned, they're roommates yay, why did I think writing at four am was a good idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7785256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backiejonomo/pseuds/backiejonomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a special type of idiot to forget their own twenty-third birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> A short thing I wrote for my friend, to whom this is dedicated to <3  
> Check her out on tumblr @snhoot!  
> So I have this big, long, multi chapter AU planned called Moritz, Ilse, and the Great Roommate AU.  
> This is NOT apart of the AU, but is in the same setting and situation.

             Ilse throws the door open with a wide and dramatic swing, not even waiting for a reply before taking off towards Moritz’s bed. He’s too deep within his slumber to hear her stampeding footsteps pounding against the hard wood floor right before she flings herself onto the bed with a triumphant yell.

            Moritz jolts awake as she crashes into him, yelping loudly in a girly-sounding voice that he will most definitely deny later.

            “What the actual _fuck,_ Ilse?” He exclaims, just barely saving himself from tumbling to the ground. He rubs at his eyes with closed fists and groans. He hasn’t even properly opened his eyes yet, and she’s wiggling around the bed like a hyperactive puppy that wants to go for a walk.

            “Don’t be grouchy, you should be excited!” Ilse urges him, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. “Get up get up get up!”

            Moritz reluctantly sits up, swatting her hands away with irritation. How she manages to be this loud this early in the morning is just another mystery in the enigma that is Ilse Neumann. His tired eyes trail to the clock on his bedside table, which tortures him with its big red numbers reading 5:17.

            “For the love of god,” Moritz drones, flopping back onto the mattress and burying his head underneath his pillow. “It’s too early for this”

            Ilse, persistent always, grabs the pillow and whacks him with it.

            “Get up Moritz! You can sleep when you’re dead!”

            “Right now, I wish I was” He groans, crossing his arms over his face to lessen the next inevitable blow of the pillow. “It’s five am, Ilse. The sun has barely risen yet!”

            She whacks him again, looking down at him and sticking out her tongue. It’s right then that his mind jumps to when they were seven, with her making the same exact face when he finds her in her hiding spot during hide and seek. If he wasn’t being beaten by a pillow, he would be smiling at the warm memory.

            “So ungrateful, you are,” she dramatically frowns to feign sadness, dropping the pillow and crossing her arms over her chest. “I get up at the ass-crack of dawn and bake you a cake to surprise you for your _birthday,_ and you’re too much of a diva to even get out of bed”

            “For your information, if anyone is a diva in this friend group, it’s Melchior,” He deadpans almost on instinct, sitting up once again to face her.

“And what the hell are you talking about, my birth-” Moritz stops himself midsentence when the realization hits him. You’ve got to be a special type of idiot to forget your twenty-third birthday, huh?

_“Oh”_

Ilse smirks, nodding at him with amusement. She loves being right, even though she won’t admit it.

            “I’ll hold all smartass remarks because it’s your birthday, a wonderful occasion that is going to be celebrated every second of this day,” Ilse throws an arm across his shoulders and squeezes him tightly. Her hair, which is chopped into a short bob and dyed a seaweed green shade this month, brushes against his neck. It’s a tickling sensation that he giggles at slightly, though he’d never say that aloud.

            “Happy birthday, Moritz,” she presses a soft kiss to his cheek, and he blushes like he’s a little school boy again. He looks down at his lap and hopes that she doesn’t notice.

            “Thank you, really,” He says, shyly bringing an arm around her waist. He’s careful and slow about it, knowing that fast touches make her flinch. The whole thing is a bold action for him, which is pretty pathetic in his mind, since this is the closest he’s come to ‘making a move’ in their sixteen years of friendship.

            “I’m going to complain about how early it is for weeks to come, but I really do appreciate it” He teases, flicking her forehead. Ilse laughs, shoving him away playfully.

            “You know you love it,” she tells him, waggling her finger at him as she stands up and stretches up to the ceiling. In the brief moments of her arms above her head, her thin tank top rises and exposes her midriff. Moritz looks away after almost a second, like he’s some scandalized wuss. He curses himself for this type of thing still having an effect on him, considering they’ve been roommates for two years and he does her damn laundry when she inevitably forgets.

            He follows her into the kitchen, trying not to notice how impossibly tiny her pajama shorts are, and how adorable she looks as she scurries across the tile because it’s too cold for her feet, and how-

            _Dear lord,_ he scolds himself. _Keep it together, this isn’t a romance novel._

She stands in front of the kitchen table and rocks back and forth on her heels, looking as excited as a child on Christmas morning. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and looks at her expectantly.

            “What is this?” he asks, unable to keep the smile off his face.

            “I promised you a cake, and Ilse Neumann always keeps her promises” She says proudly, stepping aside to reveal his cake. It’s a little lopsided with way too much frosting on it, but he grins widely at her nonetheless. The effort is clear and it’s touching in a way he didn’t think it would be.

            “I love it, Ilse” he says, surprising himself by sounding slightly choked up. “I can’t- this is too much. You shouldn’t have”

            Ilse shakes her head adamantly and waves a dismissive hand.

            “I don’t want to hear any of that. You’re my best friend and my roommate and it’s my duty to make your birthday a big deal” She tells him, using her ‘I’m not taking no for an answer’ voice that she usually uses when arguing with Melchior, and then holds up a fork.

            “The birthday boy gets to make the first cut”

            She holds the fork out to him and he takes it, laughing a little.

            “A fork?”

            “It was either make the cake or empty the dishwasher,” she says simply, shrugging at him. “I made the sacrifice for the greater good”

            Moritz chuckles at that and her ever present sense of humor, cutting into the cake and pushing a piece onto a paper plate as best as he can.

            The cake is kind of dry and way too sweet, but he thanks her repeatedly and finishes the entire piece out of politeness. She’s never been much a cook, but he’s happy to do it. It’s the least he can do, really.

            He hadn’t been expecting anyone to make a big deal about his birthday, and he definitely hadn’t been expecting a five am wakeup call followed by cake. It’s not that he didn’t think his friends would forget or wouldn’t care, that wasn’t the case. Moritz has just been trained since his childhood to never expect any big fuss for milestones. Growing up with his father, who has probably smiled once or twice since Moritz has been born, never was one to be the ‘excited parent’. It’s just how things were, and it is what Moritz had learned to anticipate.

            “So, you have any big plans for today?” Ilse asks as she licks frosting off her fork, breaking him out of his train of thought.

            Moritz shrugs after a moment of thought. “Nothing super special. I’ve got to get milk from the store, and I can’t forget litter for Agatha’s litterbox, and-”

            Ilse cuts him off with a tone of disbelief.

            “You’re running errands on your birthday?”

            Moritz blinks at her confusedly.

            “Is there something wrong with that?”

            “Well yeah!” She exclaims, swatting at the side of his head. “It’s your _birthday,_ you’re supposed to go on a wild adventure and have the time of your life!”

            Moritz chuckles a little. “It’s a Thursday morning, Ilse. The group is going out for a birthday dinner this Saturday, so that can be my big adventure”

            “But that’s in three days! It’s your birthday _today,”_ Ilse reaches across the table and grabs his shoulder. “Go and do something crazy!”

            Moritz scoffs. “Me? Something crazy? It's a little too early for you to be that delirious, don't you think?"

            Ilse gives him a stern look. “Moritz-”

            “Ilse,” he cuts her off, matching her tone of voice. “It’s really not a big deal. It’s just my birthday”

            She blinks at him for a second, her face taking on an expression that he can’t quite read. It’s like he’s in high-school again, desperately trying to figure out what she’s thinking when she gives him no hints.

            “But you deserve for your birthday to be a big deal,” she says firmly, almost frowning. “Don’t you know that?”

            Moritz swallows a lump in his throat. He hadn’t known how serious she is taking this, and how much it meant to her that he knew of her effort.

            “I don’t need a crazy day with a shit ton of adventures,” he says, hesitantly reaching out and taking her hand into his own. Her fingers are warm against his long ones.

            “I’ve got some cake and one of my best friends with me at, god help me, five am. I don’t need anything else”

            Ilse looks him in the eyes, as if gauging his honesty. He forces himself to keep her gaze, and he’s proud to report that he doesn’t falter for a second. It’s Ilse who breaks the staring, looking down at their entwined hands and awkwardly shifting in her seat.

            “I can’t believe I forgot,” she says uncharacteristically quiet, standing up and rifling through a kitchen drawer. Moritz bites at his lip, wondering if the hand holding had been going too far. He didn’t realize that he was holding his breath until now.

            Ilse turns back to him and reveals a single bright yellow candle. It’s skinny and wimpy looking in the middle of her palm, but she places it smack dab in the middle of the cake like it's a prize winning center piece.

            “I forgot that you have to make a wish,” she tells him, grabbing a lighter from the shelf and holding it out to him. He looks down at it, the little red lighter in her small fist. She hates lighting candles, he remembers. She’s terrible at it and will usually end up making Moritz do it, if her several failed attempts hadn’t ended in her burning her fingers first.

            Moritz stands up, finding himself just a few inches shy of being flushed against her within the small space between their chairs. She’s four inches shorter than him but they’re still eye level in this moment. They lock eyes and he’s certain that he feels electricity between them. He’s also pretty sure that he hears Ilse’s breath catch in her throat for just a moment.

            “You’ve got to light the candle,” she whispers, her breath tickling at his chin.

            “I know” He says quietly, voice low. Neither of them move a muscle.

            “And then you can make a wish”

            The tension becomes so unbearable that Moritz can’t fight the impulse any longer. He brings one hand to her right cheek in the most graceful movement he’s ever managed, and he captures her lips between his own.

            She freezes for a moment but then almost instantly melts into him, bringing her hands to his shoulders and pressing her frame against his lanky one. She’s warm in the cold kitchen and she smells like fabric softener and her hair is tickling at his palms and- his mind is racing with too many thoughts for any of them to be cohesive.

            They separate after what feels like both an eternity and a quick passing second. Neither of them say anything, catching their breath and trying to calm their pulse.

            “You still have to light the candle,” Ilse says to break the silence, taking his hand and pressing the lighter into his palm. “Because you know that I’m shit at doing that”

            Moritz laughs at this, and he’s comforted by the fact that she joins in on his laughter.

            “How’s that for something crazy?” he says softly, flicking the lighter and watching the wick catch fire. She doesn't reply, but she  _does_ intertwine her fingers with his own, which makes him blush all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you for reading!


End file.
